


Look into my shallow eyes, cause you swam them for a while. Wouldn’t you agree?

by Phenomenal_World



Category: The Smiths
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Marrissey, Protective Johnny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25386151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phenomenal_World/pseuds/Phenomenal_World
Summary: Johnny doesn’t like it when fans climb up on stage. Especially not when they’re hugging Morrissey.
Relationships: Johnny Marr/Morrissey
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	Look into my shallow eyes, cause you swam them for a while. Wouldn’t you agree?

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic! Don’t be too harsh on me, eh?  
> Title is lyrics from ‘Stole The Love’ by The Pale Fountains.  
> Set at the Derby Assembly Rooms, 1983.

Johnny looked over at Morrissey, his face shifting up into a slight smile as his fingers strummed his guitar. The singer was flailing his arms about so eccentrically, his whole body sweating and his cheeks flushed from the warmth that he was emitting. Johnny’s fingers picked the last chords of the song, and it finished with the lights dimming a little.  


God, Morrissey looked so beautiful. His perfectly styled quiff was rimmed by the blue - yellow interchanging light that lit up the stage. 

He looked at Johnny for a split second, though it felt like hours, his cornflower blue eyes locking with Johnny’s honey-brown ones. They exchanged smiles and Morrissey whisked his head back around to face the crowd. Johnny glanced across at Andy and Mike, and they all nodded to signify that they were ready. Once Johnny had this clarification, he started strumming the chords to ‘You’ve got everything now’ on his guitar, in time with the thundering drums and the rhythmic bass. 

He was so caught up in playing the song, he didn’t realise that a rouge fan had clambered onto the stage. He looked up to check on the gangly singer, and what he saw made his heart twinge in jealousy. The fan was hugging Morrissey, his arms wrapped tightly around him, and Morrissey looked to be enjoying it- far too much for Johnny’s liking. 

Morrissey was  _ his _ , he didn’t belong to some random fan. 

Johnny shrugged the feeling off, after all, it was just one fan, how much harm could it do? But that wasn’t the only fan. It was only just the start. 

Another fan climbed up onto the stage. And then another one. And another one. And soon, the stage was full of fans, all swarming around Morrissey like bees to their queen. 

Johnny let out a verbal growl of annoyance- he hated seeing Morrissey with other people, especially when they were hugging and kissing and tossing him about. His growl was drowned out by the blaring music from the speakers, thankfully. The last thing he wanted was Morrissey knowing how damn protective he was over him. 

Some of the fans danced near Johnny, trying to tug and pull him for no apparent reason. He wasn’t fond of the attention, unlike his eccentric vocalist, who seemed to bathe in it and soak it all up. 

It was quite strange, really, seen as how introverted he was. 

Johnny glanced over at Mike, and glared in jealousy as he saw that there was no fans swarming him- probably because he was so damn intimidating. 

Nearing the end of the song, Johnny’s eyes darted to Morrissey in annoyance as he caught sight of even more fans climbing up onto the stage to hug him. 

A few stage invasions were fine, but this? This was teeth-grindingly annoying. Morrissey was his. Nobody else’s. His. Johnny made sure that after this gig was over, he was going to give Morrissey a piece of his mind.

Finally, it was over. The last chords of the song had been strummed and Morrissey had shouted his goodbyes, and now they were all filing off stage into the backroom. The air crackled with excitement, like it often did after gigs, even though they were all shattered and sweaty. Morrissey slouched down onto a chair, his slim body draping so dramatically over it. Johnny watched him like a hawk, getting lost in his own world of daydreams. 

“Hey, Johnny? Wanna come and grab a drink with me ‘n Andy?” Mike’s grumbling voice snapped Johnny back into reality- back into the dingy backroom. 

“John..?” Mike asked again, looking at Johnny, concern lacing his brow. 

“Oh.. uh.. no thanks, I’m.. tired..” Johnny stumbled for words, his brain taking longer than usual to process Mike’s simple question. Mike simply raised an eyebrow, though he didn’t query further.

“Alright. We’ll be down the pub across the street.” 

Mike walked out with one arm wrapped around Andy, his hand resting on his hips, and the other holding a cigarette up to his own lips.

As the door closed, Johnny turned back around to Morrissey, to see him pouring two glasses of wine. The guitarist slouched down into the chair that had previously been occupied by Andy, and he stretched and let out a groan. He didn’t need to see Morrissey’s eyes to know that his royal blue gaze was burning into him.

Morrissey handed Johnny the glass of wine, and studied the smaller mans face intently.

“You’re tense.” Morrissey observed, making direct eye contact with Johnny. 

For what felt like an eternity, Johnny’s caramel-brown eyes locked with Morrissey’s piercing ocean-blue ones. Johnny could feel Morrissey reading his every emotion like a book, and Johnny was helpless to it. The poetic vocalist was so damn good at this- his eyes seemed to echo on forever, encapsulating you and holding you prisoner in their deep blue depths. Johnny swore if he stared into them for long enough, he just might drown.

“Maybe I am.” Was Johnny’s response after many delayed seconds. Morrissey blinked and Johnny was finally able to tear his focus away from Morrissey’s eerily entrancing eyes. 

“Why?” Morrissey queried, his voice low and calm. Johnny shuffled his feet in embarrassment.

“It’s because of you.” 

“Me? Why me, dear Johnny, what have I done?” 

Johnny glanced around the room, his eyes desperately searching for something, anything, to latch onto. He was lost for words. 

“I need a cigarette.” Johnny swiftly got up and rummaged around through his pocket, retrieving a slightly bent cigarette and a lighter. He pushed open the back exit and breathed in the crisp, nighttime city air. Bringing the cigarette to his lips, he lit it, inhaling the acrid smoke into his lungs. Stepping outside and leaning against the cold brick wall, Johnny mindlessly listened to the low hum of the city ambience. His breath billowed out in plumes of smoke, and he watched mindlessly as the smoke traveled upwards and dissipated into the night air. 

“What’s wrong, my love?” 

Johnny whipped his head around to the sound of Morrissey’s rumbling voice. The taller man ran his fingers through his quiff and stared deep into Johnny’s burnt-caramel coloured eyes, searching, reading. Johnny tried reading Morrisseys thoughts, he really tried, but the mysterious singer was unreadable, like a book in another language. 

Suddenly, Johnny laughed a little, blowing cigarette smoke into Morrissey’s face. The singer glared at Johnny, his face hinted with mild offence.

“It’s obvious, really, Steven. Don’t play dumb. You  _ know  _ what’s wrong.” Johnny snidely remarked, looking away from Morrissey. Morrissey narrowed his eyes and ran his tongue over his rosy lips, not looking away from Johnny.

“Johnny, I really don’t know what you’re on about..”

Johnny glared at him, yet his eyes sparked with a ravenous glint.

Before Morrissey could process what was happening, Johnny had him pinned against the brick wall. 

“J-Johnny? I really don’t know what this is about..!” 

Johnny simply growled low in response, and brought his face a hair length away from the vocalists. Morrissey felt his neck hair stand on end as the small guitarist breathed his smokey breath onto his flushed cheek. 

“You’re mine.. all mine...” 

Johnny pressed his narrow lips up against Morrissey’s. Teasing the singers lips open, Johnny plunged his tongue deep into his mouth, tasting his every flavour- he was sweet, yet with a hint of almonds. 

Morrissey’s mouth was filled with the bittersweet taste of Johnny’s tongue, naturally sweet yet tainted by cigarettes and alcohol. 

Johnny nibbled gently at Morrissey’s bottom lip, licking and exploring with a sort of possessive roughness. 

Soon both males were kissing passionately, Johnny leading the way, and they wrapped their arms around each other to pull themselves closer.

“I want them stupid fans to know that you’re mine..” Johnny growled, pulling away from the kiss with a wolffish grin. He made his way down to Morrissey’s neck, trailing kisses and saliva down its smooth surface. He tentatively sucked and bit at the delicate skin, making sure to leave a vibrant purple mark which screamed _‘_ _ he’s mine! ’  _

Morrissey let out a whimper of pleasure, feeling his jeans tighten at the way Johnny’s tongue grazed his neck.

After many long moments of heated kissing, Johnny pulled away, saliva covering his lips and chin. His eyes shone with lust and desire, yet they were rimmed with satisfaction.

“I don’t want to see anymore of those fans kissing you on stage.. you’re mine, and mine only.” 

Morrissey simply nodded in agreement, still completely dazed by the events prior. 

Johnny wiped the mixture of his and Moz’s drool away from his mouth with his sleeve, and he let out a low chuckle. 

“Come, lets go to the pub. Mike and Andy will be wondering where we are...”


End file.
